


Birds of a Feather

by cheesebun



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Injury, Descriptions of past injuries, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Linktober 2020, Modern AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Prompt 21 aka an excuse for me to pull my studies into my fic, Sensory Overload, Time Travel, YODELING, dubious scientific methodology, four may be tiny but his body is filled with rage, idk why ao3 keeps making that tag all caps, legend & kneecap removal, one tiny hero and his appropriately sized sword (made of an appropriately sized object), some rejected relationship tags:, wild & stupidity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesebun/pseuds/cheesebun
Summary: Flock together.The Links may have been brought together for reasons out of their control, but they're going to stick together, dammit.A place for me to upload all of my linktober 2020 prompts!
Relationships: Four & Hyrule & Legend & Sky & Time & Twilight & Warriors & Wild & Wind (Linked Universe), Four & Legend (Linked Universe), Four & Twilight (Linked Universe), Four & Wind (Linked Universe), Four (Linked Universe) & Shadow Link, Legend & Hyrule (Linked Universe), Legend & Time (Linked Universe), Time & Wild (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe), Warriors & Wild (Linked Universe), Warriors & Wind (Linked Universe), Wild & Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 164
Kudos: 247





	1. Shadow/Dark Link

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, welcome to my linktober 2020 prompts ♥️ This year is the first time I try to write for it and my goal is to write at least 15, so I will not post every single day!
> 
> Word count: 200 (double drabble)  
> Characters: Four, Shadow Link, Dark Link

_Dark link_. The name is always spoken with such venom, spat out like a curse that must escape their lips as fast as possible lest it poison the rest of their words. 

Evil, blight, puppet, ganon’s pet—the list of epithets only grew longer and longer with time. Four certainly couldn’t blame them; the only encounters the others ever had with a Dark Link always ended in grief, long and painful battles that barely avoided stalemates and left both parties alone to lick at their wounds. 

But what did that mean for Four? Four, who met his shadow and befriended him, helped him turn to the very same light that would have destroyed him. The gaping hole in his heart ached the longer he went on without Shadow—his parts missed their friend, their brother, their _final piece_. What would the others have to say if Four admitted that he _grieved_ for the loss of his shadow? Continued to grieve for him even now?

What they didn’t know was that Four would stop at nothing to get his missing piece back. Nothing at all—not even teaming up with the very same evil their group was brought together to defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don't really think there is a traitor in LU, (and I don't rlly see shadow as a dark link) but there is so much _potential_ in the traitor theories that I just had to jump on the bandwagon hehe ~~(also this prompt kinda contradicts my summary oops guess you'll have to wait for the softness!)~~
> 
> next prompt: 3-Time.


	2. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should have noticed the signs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 720  
> Characters: Time, Legend, Hyrule  
> tws: blood, major character death

He should have noticed the signs. 

It started with supplies. Wild and Twilight running out of arrows despite swearing they had restocked in the last town, Four and Wind reaching into their bags for potions and bottled charms only to pull out empty bottles. Empty wallets, missing bombs—what they first brushed off as strange lapses in memory quickly slipped into concerning territory when not one of them had a fairy to help heal Sky from a particularly nasty gash. If it hadn’t been for Hyrule’s magic, they wouldn’t have been able to help him scrape by.

Time ignored it until the very end, second guessing his own instincts and the heavy sense of deja vu that continued to plague him with every strange occurrence. 

It came to a head one night, when they were fighting a battalion of wizzrobes backed up by _dairas_ of all things, the axe-throwing lizards towering over their fellow monsters. Time is dodging an icy blast from a wizzrobe when he catches Legend’s frantic gaze for a split second. The hero isn’t even looking at the monsters, focusing on his companions instead as he flits around the battlefield, helping the others dodge flying projectiles and defending blind spots. Time loses him for a minute as his wizzrobe reappears in front of him with a cackle. They’re even uglier up close, all deep glowing eyes and jagged teeth, and Time is more than happy to drive his sword through its cloaked body. 

He’s taking down the last wizzrobe near him when the battle is ripped apart by a gut-wrenching scream.

It’s as if everything has slowed down. Time scans the group of wide-eyed heroes and runs towards where he had seen Legend go last, rounding a wide tree and freezing in his tracks. Hyrule is splayed out on the ground, face slack and eyes glassy. An axe has ripped through his body, severing one of his arms below the elbow before embedding into his side. There is way too much blood underneath him. 

Bile rises into his throat at the sight. He’s about to say something, about to ask _what the hell happened here_ when he notices Legend hunched over on the other end of the clearing. The other hero rises slowly, his legs coated in what Time assumes is the dust from the daira. Time feels a sick sense of satisfaction at the sight, silently hoping that Legend had taken his time with the kill. With stiff, calculated motions, Legend shuffles through his bag and pulls something out, then turns around with a practiced sort of restraint. There is an all-too familiar look in his eyes and a harp clutched in his hands. It reeks with magical power, and Time can sense its potential immediately.

Time recognizes that look. That was the very same look he found on his own face after months of failed attempts at stopping Skull Kid, watching allies die and turning back time only for them to meet their ends in another unpredictable way each time. It is a haunted sort of determination, a flicker of hope still remaining that with _just the right number of loops_ he could fix things. _If I just went and changed this, if I was just a little faster, if I started here instead of there if I had bombs if I had arrows if I if I if I—_

Time had stopped thinking of what-ifs after he had passed through an entire year with no one around him advancing a single day. (That was also when he had stopped counting the days). 

It only takes him three seconds to make his decision. One for each day Termina had left when he had first arrived, for each of the races whose hopes were held in his transformation masks, for each of the fairies he encountered on his travels. With a firm hand he pushes Legend’s arms down, forcing the younger hero to lower the harp and pulling the blue ocarina off his belt. Yes, Time had vowed to never let that cursed song flow from his ocarina ever again. But if there was a chance that he could prevent one of his boys from having to taste even a _hint_ of the experiences he had, then Time would do it all again in a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did I say softness? I meant people getting hit right where it’s soft. Sorry for the misunderstanding!
> 
> ~~sorry not sorry lils you asked someone to kill Hyrule while fully forgetting that I had this lined up for you~~
> 
> next prompt: 4-favorite place.


	3. Favorite Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 970  
> Characters: Four, Shadow, (kinda Legend & Hyrule)

The portal leads them into some sort of foggy void. A lone tree stands before them, and two small buildings with barred off doors stand across from each other on either side of it. The ground is covered in a shallow pool of water, and it extends as far as the eye can see—there doesn’t seem to be any end to the area they’re in at all. 

Four peers curiously into the water. It comes up to around everybody’s ankles, which naturally means that he’s submerged to about mid-calf, but oddly enough he doesn’t feel dragged down by its weight. They stroll with ease through it, their steps sending ripples through their reflections. 

Their reflections—that’s another odd thing about the water, the way it reflects them almost more clearly than a mirror. Four can make out his own reflection when he stands still and allows the ripples to peter out, staring in fascination. No matter how still the water is, his reflection remains blurry. It looks like multiple images have been stacked on top of one another, and the outline is colorful, like light refracting through a prism. 

The group makes their way towards the patch of dirt where the tree grows, inspecting the treasure chest that sits in front of it and moving on when they notice it is empty. He can tell that they’re all mesmerized by the room, but the tension in Time’s shoulders belies more than curiosity. The old man knows where they are. 

Time steps forward and turns to face the group before they reach the tree, his shoulders stiff and his lips forming a fine line. Something about this room is putting him on edge, and Four wants to know what it is _now_. 

“Watch out,” he warns, not ominously at all. “We’re in my Hyrule, in the water temple. This room is where I fought my own shadow.” 

The admission sends a ripple of unease through the group, and Four can feel Hyrule tense beside him, hand coming up to his stomach, right where he had shown them his scar weeks earlier. Fighting their shadows was difficult, and while Four knew that, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of hope. Not all of their shadows were enemies.

“He appeared near that tree,” Time gestures towards it, “as much as I don’t want to begin any sort of encounter, this room’s illusion won’t break until we defeat whatever lurks here. Take caution.” He lowers a pointed look at Wild and Wind.

They all murmur their agreement to Time’s words (some more sheepishly than others), drawing their swords and approaching the tree. They form a circle around it in hopes of surrounding anything that appears, weapons at the ready in case it jumps to the attack. Hyrule and Legend flank him on either side. 

Four reaches the raised dirt surrounding the tree first, and a figure appears as soon as his foot lands on it, water dripping off his boot and soaking into the soft earth. The figure is short, with dark hair and dark clothes, and it stands facing the tree. 

_It’s Shadow_. 

The figure is unmistakable—Four has seen his own back enough to recognize it immediately, and his breath catches in his chest at the sight. Forgetting about the others, he reaches out, heart in his throat and a cry on his lips. 

The figure whips around, sword suddenly at the ready, and makes a swipe at Four’s stomach. He reels back immediately, stumbling over his own feet as Legend and Hyrule grab his shoulders and pull him out of the sword’s range. 

“What the hell are you doing, Smithy?” Legend shouts, sheathing his sword and pulling out his boomerang instead so he can fight from a distance. “Did you completely ignore the old man’s warning? The darks are _dangerous_!”

Four barely hears him, too busy staring at the person standing en guarde in front of them. On closer look, the differences are stark—while Shadow’s skin was paler than Four’s, something he couldn’t remedy without risking dissolving in the sunlight, this creature’s skin was _grey_ , almost blending in with the long-sleeved shirt under its tunic. Its eyes had no whites, instead glowing a pure, unearthly red, and its tunic was a monochromatic replica of his own—Four had created his patchwork of a tunic after Shadow had passed on as a way to better reflect what was inside of him, and Shadow had never gotten to see the final product. 

This _isn’t_ Shadow. This is Dark Link, and if Four isn’t completely focused in this fight, he is going to get killed. The apparition jumps forward with a war cry, but this time Four is ready. With Legend and Hyrule by his side, they take it on—and in minutes Four is delivering the final blow. 

The look of pain on its face is so familiar, so much like his own and so much like his brothers', that Four finds himself looking away as Dark Link hunches over in pain before vanishing into the fog. It isn’t, however, enough to stop him from hearing the soft voice that echoes as it fades.

“Thank you, Link.”

It’s as if a bucket of icy water has been poured over him. The words send a chill down his back, the familiar voice setting all his nerves alight with pure dread. Is this what Shadow would have sounded like if Vio hadn’t befriended him? If the four of them had cut him down without any mercy? The thought is enough to bring Four to his knees, pain lancing up his entire body at the impact. He hadn’t even noticed the illusion around them vanishing, but it's hard to ignore now when his knees hit solid ground without a splash. 

He feels sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're gonna carry that weight.
> 
> next prompt: 5-Flora.


	4. Plant/Flora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flora would vouch for Wild's methods, call them a science. The others... not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 100  
> characters: Wild

The others always get on Wild’s case for being too reckless, for running off without a goal or trying new plants without considering the dangers. But, he muses as he crushes a plant unique to Wind’s Hyrule between two rocks before tossing it into the steaming cooking pot, how else was he supposed to determine what’s poisonous without trying first?

Twilight insists that toxic plants are often brightly colored, but Wild isn’t sure he agrees—they all look the same to him. With a final look at the line of potions nearby, he sends out a silent prayer and chugs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wild’s a scientist just as much as Flora is—his methodology is just a liiiittle more chaotic. 😉 (also it doesn't really work in fantasy land where every plant is bright blue and pink but imagine the chaos of finding out that wild is colorblind [specifically red-green colorblind] and that’s why he just eats random plants)
> 
> next prompt: 8-weapon.


	5. Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Four, Wind, Warriors, Legend  
> Word count: 1173

“Huh, who’s that?” Warriors’ voice comes from off to the side, over where he, Wind, and Legend are talking to Ry, the kid working behind the counter of Wheaton and Pita’s bakery. The raised voice pulls Four’s attention over and he stands up from where he’s inspecting the little minish doorway near the bakery’s main oven and walks over to the counter, curious about what’s got them talking.

Four finds himself wondering where the time went. It feels like just yesterday when Ry was one of the kids Four would run into in the schoolhouse when he was on his adventure with Ezlo, and now he was old enough to be trusted alone in his parent’s bakery. Ry has a sketchbook in his hands, and it's open wide to show off a drawing that spreads across two entire pages.

Four gets up close, pushing past Wind to get the drawing into his view. Now that it's up close, he makes out a black cat, hackles raised as it hisses at something small in the corner of the page. An involuntary shudder runs down his back at the sight. Four has been the victim of one too many swipes of a cat’s claws while minish-sized, and it hasn’t exactly endeared him to them. Leaning in, he tries to get a closer look at the cat’s prey. 

The tiny figure faces the cat with defiance, putting on a brave front despite the way their opponent towers over them. A sewing needle is clutched in their left hand, the eye wrapping around their clenched fist like a makeshift rapier’s handguard. A wooden button is strapped on their right arm like a shield.

With a start, Four realizes what this scene is. _That is him_ in the drawing, he even remembers this exact moment. He had been visiting the village in the Minish Woods, and what was meant to be a social call quickly turned into an impromptu adventure when some of the villagers had begged him to retrieve their friends who had gotten lost in the Deepwood Shrine. 

Their friends were from Hyrule Town, and their curiosity had gotten piqued by the mysterious temple behind the village. No one had stopped them from venturing in, the years that had passed since any monsters were seen in the forest lulling everyone into a sense of security. They hadn’t expected to get separated and trapped by puzzles that were still active, and only the forest minish’s familiarity with their surroundings had given them the edge needed to escape. 

Four hadn’t bothered asking _why_ they had thought that going to the temple was a good idea in the first place, the embarrassed looks on the young minish’s face betraying all the information he needed. They were younger minish, two of which he recognized from a group of daredevils Elder Gentari had asked him to keep an eye on. They were just trying to prove to their friends that village life wasn’t all that boring. 

If Four hadn’t been so concerned about the poor town minish stuck in the temple, he would have been relieved—hopefully this would serve as a lesson for the others. The temples weren’t places to go and play, with all the pitfalls, traps, and hazards in them they didn’t even need any monsters to be deathtraps. He was just glad that they came back to the village immediately to ask for help, the fear for their friends’ wellbeing beating the need to hide their rule breaking. 

Unfortunately for him, Four had only come to the village to buy some pico blooms for his grandpa, and hadn’t even thought to bring his sword. Just as he was kicking himself for being careless (he never went anywhere without it, why was it that the one time he drops his guard is the one time his paranoia would have come in handy?), Festari jumped at the opportunity to show off his collection of Hylian merchandise. The hyliophile quickly brought forward a bundle wrapped in cloth. Unfurling it, Four was pleasantly surprised to find a functional sword and shield made out of a needle and a wooden button.

The needle was big and hefty, its once-round length honed to resemble a sword’s edge that gleamed in the sunlight. One side of the eye was wrapped in thin strips of leather to make a handle. The leather was new, its glossy surface lacking any sort of worn patches. The sword definitely had not seen any real use. The shield was in a similar state. It had several strands of dark thread looped through two of the four holes, creating a strap with just enough room for Four’s arm to slip into and fit snugly.

Four made quick work of saving the minish from the shrine but was tasked with escorting them home afterwards as well. He was on his way home from Hyrule Town when the cat had come across his path, and he was forced to defend himself from the animal’s viscous swipes. Who knew someone had been watching him the whole time?

He turns to the three heroes next to him frantically and tries to gauge their recognition. Four would positively _die_ of embarrassment if any of them realized it was him and can only hope that the tiny drawing doesn’t hold enough detail to be recognizable.

“The hair looks familiar…” Wind muses from beside them, leaning bodily across the counter so he can see. Ry helpfully turns the sketchbook towards him.

“Kinda looks like the Smithy.” Legend muses, and the comment makes Four’s blood run cold. He turns towards the vet with barely concealed panic on his face. 

“Wouldn’t that be hilarious?” He nudges Warriors with his elbow, and the taller hero nods in amusement, already on the verge of laughter. “He’s already so tiny, imagine if he could shrink even _more._ ” 

In an instant, the fear running through Four’s veins is replaced with anger. His slack-jawed look turns into a glare, a cold fury burning in his eyes, and Legend fails to keep his expression together at the sudden change, bursting into laughter.

“Oh, Hylia!” he guffaws, patting Four on the head. Four’s swipe at his hand only invites more laughter, this time joined by Wind and Warriors. “You should see the look on your face! Thanks for the laugh,” he turns to Ry. “and thanks for the info, kid.” with that, Legend turns on his heel and strolls out of the bakery, the others following closely.

Four waits until he can’t hear their laughter anymore before deflating. His anger leaves him, and his face heats up at the teasing. That had been _too close_. Sure, his secret was safe for now—but the next time someone made fun of his height, he was going to show them just what those hidden powers of his could do. (He knew of a certain Blue-clad hero who would not hesitate to launch himself at the first person who commented on their height, incarnation of the hero or not).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue wouldn't hesitate for a second before going for all of their kneecaps.
> 
> next prompt: 10-Link.


	6. Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The colors stick together, in life or in death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drafted this chapter 2 days ago and still almost forgot to post it 🙃 brain wya
> 
> This one is a continuation of my fic [Connection!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575489/)! It'll make a lot more sense if you read that one first :)
> 
> Characters: Twilight, Wind, Red, Blue  
> Word count: 2833

The night is free of any disturbances, the soft snores from the men around him mingling with the gentle crackling of the fire, and Twilight finds himself watching the others more than the forest surrounding them for most of his watch. He’s relieved at the reprieve, however brief it may be—they all deserve it after the ordeal they had faced. He had been right by Four when the fight had broken out, and if the guilt searing through his mind for failing to prevent his injury wasn’t bad enough, what had come _after_ was something Twilight didn’t think he could ever forget. 

He allows himself a moment of weakness, hunching over his drawn-up legs and placing his head in his hands. A full-body shudder runs through him. The aftermath of the battle was chaos, with Time, Wild, and Hyrule frantically trying to get to Four and at least stabilize him before he bled out all over the forest floor. Twilight had gotten ripped away from the scene in the whirlwind, the sight of _oh so much_ red burning itself into his mind. It was there every time he closed his eyes, Four slipping limply out of his arms and the sinking feeling of _it’s too late_.

Then, something unexpected had happened. Four had surged up with more energy than anyone in his condition should have had, and before Twilight could even blink, he had… duplicated? 

_Duplicate_ wasn’t quite the right word, because the four people who had appeared in Four’s place weren’t so much copies of the small hero as they were variations, as if someone had taken the same stamp and dipped it into successive colors of ink. Amazingly enough, the strange maneuver somehow helped, because the others were able to help the four heroes in Four’s place stop bleeding enough to transfer them to somewhere safe. 

This is where they are now, still in Four’s Minish Woods but far enough away from where the fight had been that they could no longer detect the stench of iron left behind as a grim reminder of what they had almost lost. They had lain Four and his duplicates side by side where they could all keep a close eye on them and chose two to take watch. Nightly watch was usually a one-man job, but on days when someone was badly hurt, they often doubled up. The healing had taken a lot out of Hyrule in particular, his magic depleting even more after the strain the fight had put on it. He was the first to collapse onto his bedroll, not even bothering to pull out his blanket before passing out. Time had been exhausted as well, only removing the heavier portions of his armor before sprawling out onto his bedroll. Wild insisted that all he needed was a bit of sleep and he would be ready to go, which left six of them to take up the thirds of the night. 

Wind was the first to volunteer, and one look at the fire burning in his eyes had their complaints dying on their tongues. He and Twilight had been the first to reach Four after his hit, and Twilight was sure the sailor wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. Sky and Legend took the second watch, with Wild and Warriors finishing up the night. 

Uncurling from his hunched over position, Twi turns to look over to where their injured lay. The four boys had not budged one bit from where they laid side by side, blood-soaked tunics and all. He wasn’t sure whether to be concerned at how still they were or relieved that they were sleeping peacefully after what they had been through. Wind leans against a nearby tree, slumped on one bent leg. His tired gaze is fixed on the steady rising and falling of their chests. Twi could tell that he was fighting his own exhaustion with the way their youngest shifted in place every few minutes, rubbing his eyes and pinching at his cheeks. He hoped that Four would wake up soon, if not for his own sake then for Wind’s—although he wouldn’t object to some explanations himself. He knew that they all had their own secrets, his own being a glaring example, but this one was… definitely something else.

With a shaky breath, Twilight stands, picking up his sword and strapping it back over his shoulder. A walk around the perimeter would do him some good, help him clear his mind. He couldn’t stand sitting in silence for any longer, watching ten heroes sleep with nothing to keep him occupied. Maybe when he returns, he could find something to occupy his mind, like writing letters for his family back home by the light of the fire, but he felt too restless to start on something like that now. He doubts that he could get much done with the way he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling, but he would do anything for a distraction. 

He’s approaching the treeline and reaching for the cord that holds his shadow crystal to transform when a groan from camp calls his attention. He’s back at Wind's side in an instant, just in time to see the red-clad version of Four bolt up from the ground.

One by one, the boy in red crouches down by the others laying unresponsive next to him, leaning over chests and faces to listen for breaths and searching for pulses with shaky hands. Once he has checked to his satisfaction, even going back over each boy more than once, he collapses onto his hands and knees by their feet. It doesn’t look like he’s even noticed that he has an audience, and he grips the grass in front of him tightly as he takes in deep, shuddering breaths. Twi’s enhanced hearing is the only reason he’s able to make out the faint mutter that comes from the crimson-clad boy’s mouth. 

“I thought we were going to die,” he says in a small, broken voice, and Twilight’s heart shatters at the admission. He still isn’t sure what’s going on or what the basis is behind this power of Four’s, but the sight of one the boys he’s grown to see as family in such despair is almost unbearable. Twi can tell Wind is barely holding himself back as well, unshed tears shining in his eyes. 

He’s about to run up and envelop him in a hug, hold him tight and never let go, but Wind surges past him first. Twilight panics for a second and goes to pull Wind back—even with them prioritizing the most injured, their supplies were spread very thin as they all healed up from the fight. With the bulk of the healing effort focused on Hyrule’s magic and their meager supplies providing a bit of backup, they weren’t able to heal Four’s injuries fully. They’re still injured, although not as gravely as before, but rough treatment was the last thing they needed. Luckily, Wind catches himself at the last minute and slows down his bullblin’s charge in order to wrap the other up in a gentle hug. 

Surprised, the boy takes a minute to wrap his arms around Wind in kind. His grip on Wind only tightens as the two of them break down—Wind with small, shuddering breaths and the red Four with big, gasping sobs. Twi hesitated slightly before his brotherly instincts kicked in, kneeling beside the two trembling teens and wrapping them up as tightly as he could in his arms. He wants to hold them forever, wishes that his embrace could ward off any and all hardships, but he settles for holding them now until their sobs subside. The other three parts of Four still lay unresponsive before them, and Twi can see the one in his arms turning his attention back to them already. 

Once he hears the boys in his arms begin to regulate their breathing, Twi loosens his hold, placing a hand on each of their shoulders before settling his weight back onto his haunches. None of them speak for a while, just taking in the lingering warmth of the embrace. 

“I should probably explain a bit,” the boy clad in red says with a small sniffle. He swipes the remaining tears from his eyes and takes in a shuddering breath to prepare himself before lifting his head up and looking straight at Twi. His eyes are a deep red, swirling and crackling like an open flame. They draw him in with their fiery passion, tempting and protective yet dangerous if not careful. With a start, Twi realizes that the gaze is familiar—he has seen it in the soft expression that overcomes Four’s face every time he talks about his grandpa or his Zelda back home, or when he finally gets a chance to gush about his smithing work to one of them. Twilight starts to feel like maybe these four people aren’t as new to him as he initially thought. 

“My name is Red,” he starts, trying for a smile and ending on more of a grimace. His gaze keeps straying back to the others. “I am part of Link—of Four, just as much as they—” he gestures at the others “—are. Our sword, the Four Sword, gave us the power to split after we infused it with four elements on our first journey. We didn’t actually use it until our second adventure, and before that we were all just one person.” Red points to the three in turn, naming them as he goes.

His gaze is painfully fond as he looks over at his other parts, and Twi takes a minute to truly see them as well. It’s hard to make out their features in the darkness, but they look like quadruplets. He can almost imagine that they're just resting, the soft expressions on their faces portraying a dreamless sleep. The peaceful picture is only broken by the dark bloodstains that mar their tunics and skin. 

“We’ve done it before, you know. Splitting when we’re hurt usually spreads the injury across the four of us. It sucks, having all of us being hurt, but it’s better than doing it alone and it makes the injuries less severe.” He pauses for a minute. Twilight’s heart hurts at the thought, imagining Four, injured and all alone, having to split the pain among his brothers just to _survive_. 

“We almost didn’t split this time,” Red continues, voice almost inaudible. He’s turned away from the fire, and dark shadows line the soft curves of his face. They give him a haunted look, making him look much older than his real age. Four always comes off as rather mature, his calm countenance and steady presence making it easy to forget just how young he is. Twi finds himself tightening his reassuring grip on Red’s shoulder, trying to encourage him to keep going. “I couldn’t really tell what was happening. I was convinced we were done for. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I couldn’t lose them...” Wind shifts back into place next to Red, bringing an arm to wrap around his shoulders as the boy collapses in on himself. 

“I—” Red pauses to suck in a breath, the tears starting up in earnest again. “I _can’t—_ ” Wind turns to look at Twilight as Red curls up into a ball, tucking his head into his arms and beginning to shake again. The frantic _help me_ is clear on Wind’s face. 

Twilight takes a second to steel himself. He’s done this before, hiding his own sadness and fear away to tend to others. Sometimes it was all he _could_ do as his world crumbled around him, because he knew that it was crumbling around others as well. And maybe, just _maybe,_ if he managed to convince them that everything was going to be alright, he would start believing it too. He did it for the children of Ordon when it looked like Ilia was lost forever to the monsters who invaded their peaceful home, shattering their illusion of safety, and again for Ilia when she thought her memories were never coming back. Wrapping his arms back around Red, Twi holds him as he breaks.

They sit like that for a while, Twi’s hand coming up to rub between Red’s shoulder blades and his chin resting on the other’s head. Red leans against him slightly, but he stays tense. Magical healing takes a lot out of both parties, relying on both the abilities of the healer and the stamina of the injured. Red had to be exhausted and Twilight can tell that it's taking all his willpower to not fall back into unconsciousness. 

Twi looks up as Wind slowly gets to his feet, walking back towards the fire to check on the rest of their companions. He silently thanks the sailor for remembering that they were on watch—it's obvious that he wants to stay nearby, but there were still six other heroes that they needed to keep an eye on. Twi absentmindedly cards his fingers through Red’s hair as he turns his gaze back to the three injured boys before him. What had Red introduced them as? Green, Vio, and Blue—they clearly weren’t the most creative at naming. Twi’s gaze lands on each boy in turn, stalling when he gets to Blue. Where was—

“Hey, Red.” A soft voice cuts through the night, making Twilight jump. He can see Wind jolt from the other side of the camp as well, the voice startling him even from a distance. They hadn’t even noticed another one of the colors waking up, but Blue had crouched down next to Red while they were trying to comfort him. Red perks up at the familiar voice, almost knocking heads with Twilight as he lifts his own with a jerk and launches himself at his brother. Blue lets out a small _oof_ as Red collides with him, falling out of his crouch and onto his butt. His arms come to wrap around Red’s torso and Red relaxes immediately, the tension melting from his entire body. 

Twilight lets out a sigh of relief at the sight. It seems like this is what Red was waiting for, because as soon as he snuggles into his brother’s arms he’s out like a light. Blue’s soft expression falls.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, voice solemn. 

“What?” Twilight asks, taken aback. He could not have heard that right. What on earth was Four—Blue—apologizing for? If anyone should be sorry, it was him—Four had gotten injured because of _his_ negligence. They had gotten into formation together, which meant that they were supposed to look out for each other’s blind spots. Sure, Four could have seen that lizalfos, but Wind and Twilight were two extra sets of eyes that should have warned him in advance. Two extra sets of eyes who had let him down.

Blue only cringes at the response, expression turning defensive as though he was expecting to be chided, and Twi berates himself over his tone. He was surprised, not angry, but he supposes it’s difficult to tell in the dark. 

“We didn’t want you guys to find out this way,” Blue explains. “It was going to be on our own terms. Vio wanted a grand, dramatic reveal—well, at least he got the dramatic part alright.” His expression is wry as he admits that, and Twi finds a small smile forming on his face despite himself. The next words, however, make the smile drop immediately.

“That split was going to be our last move. I know Red already mentioned this, but we thought that was it and splitting was just going to be a way for us to see each other one last time before we...” He trails off, his gaze becoming vacant and his hand stilling where it was rubbing little circles into Red’s The sight twists Twi’s heart, an icy feeling filling his chest. He settles his hand over Blue’s in an attempt to bring him out of his mind. It’s cold, and Blue turns it so he can grip Twi’s back.

“I’m glad that wasn’t the case,” Twi says, because he isn’t sure he could handle much more than that. The thought of losing those he considers brothers was too much to bear, and he can’t even imagine how raw it must feel for the colors themselves. Blue closes his eyes at the tears that form in them. He leans forward to rest his head over Red’s once more both for some warmth in the chilly night and to reassure himself that his brother was _there_.

“Me too,” He responds, looking over his sleeping brothers fondly then moving on to survey the rest of camp. They’re safe. They’re safe, they're whole, and they’re alive. A sense of calm washes over him, and Blue feels like he can finally relax too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wind: “blue, how come when you guys split you have full tunics and not just a quarter of a tunic each?”  
> Blue: *makes ‘i dunno’ sound* 
> 
> Ty to Faye for betaing this one for me ♥️💞 (it's the only betaed fic y'all're gonna get here so dont expect this quality for the others ;))
> 
> next prompt: 12-mask.


	7. Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rule was simple: wake up to help with morning duties, or accept the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Warriors, Wind, Wild  
> Word count: 500

Soft giggles permeate the cool silence of the new morning. Six heroes make their way around the camp, packing up their bags and pointedly ignoring the pure mischief radiating off the heroes of Wind and the Wild. Honestly, Warriors had brought it on himself when he had slept through Time’s wakeup call and their rowdy breakfast. It was a little impressive, for sure—but it was also an unspoken rule that anyone who slept in and didn’t help with their morning routine would have to pay the price. 

Their choice of punishment was simple—Wild stood with his sheikah slate at the ready, summoning pots of brightly-colored paints as needed. His Lynel mask sat beside him as a reference for the masterpiece in progress. Wind, the chosen artist, held a paintbrush as he used Warriors’ face as a canvas. With a steady hand and slow strokes, the Lynel’s mane came into view. They had opted to go for a bright red instead of white like Wild’s mask, if only to make it even harder for their poor victim to erase the evidence once he awoke. 

Warriors shifts in his sleep, and they freeze in place, Wind’s brush hovering only centimeters above his closed eye. They don’t even breathe, meeting eyes as the captain’s right hand comes up to rub his cheek. They both cringe as he smudges some of the wet paint, his hand coming away brown and red, and brace themselves for the inevitable rousing and explosion. 

“Wolfie,” Warriors mutters sleepily, “I told you to stop licking my face, you mangy beast.” With that, he settles back into sleep. 

Wind and Wild exchange incredulous looks, both trying to hold back any _more_ laughter than they had already expended. The look of betrayal on Twilight’s face was positively hysterical, and it takes all their combined strength to finish painting without any further incidents. 

Wild snaps a few pictures with his slate before packing away the paints, brush, and mask. He quickly steps away and goes back to where his bedroll was still laying near the dying fire. It was time for phase two of their plan—the deployment. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Wind cups his hands around his mouth before yelling, “WARRIORS! WAKE UP, PRINCESS!” The shout jolts Warriors out of his sleep and he makes a confused noise before slumping back onto his bedroll. 

“Thanks, kiddo,” he mutters, his annoyance at the not-so-pleasant wakeup call clear in his voice. Wind just smiles pleasantly and goes back to grab his own equipment. 

He takes his time, but eventually Warriors drags himself up and to the river nearby. 

The entire camp waits in anticipation for the shoe to drop. 

The roar of anger that comes from the river isn’t quite as fearsome as a lynel’s but sends flocks of birds always from the trees nonetheless. It’s only rivalled in volume by the outburst of howling laughter from the rest of the camp as they hear the payoff of their efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty to Razz for helping me brainstorm this one <3 
> 
> Wars is extremely betrayed when he finds out Wind was one of the culprits.


	8. Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey guys, my name is Wild and today I'm going to be sorting M&Ms because I'm colorblind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry.
> 
> Characters: Wild, Time, Four  
> Word count: 1183

Lighting? Check. Phone? Check. M&Ms? Check. He was ready. 

“Alright, let’s do this.” Wild pulls his phone out of his pocket with a flourish, reaching out to pour a handful of candies onto the kitchen counter. He opens the camera app on his phone and starts to record.

Starting with the front camera on, he gives a little wave to his imagined audience. “Hey guys, welcome back.” Flipping the camera back to face the countertop, he gets started. “Today I’m going to be attempting to sort these m&ms again, and this time I’m going to nail it,” he taps his finger in front of the candies for emphasis, “just watch me!” 

“We’re gonna start with the colors I can see,” he begins, picking out all the yellow, blue, and brown candies and separating them into their own piles. He explains to the camera as he goes—blue is the easiest to pick out, the color remaining vibrant in his view. Yellow is next, its brightness making it stick out amongst the darker colors in the pile. Brown is the exact opposite—it’s very dark, almost black, and he picks those out last. 

“I get this question a lot, but it was never really an issue for me growing up,” He says, striking up a one-sided conversation as he sorts. “You kind of adapt to it. It’s become a thing now though, because for some reason green’s really popular among my roommates…” He doesn’t even begin to mention Four, who can go days without wearing anything but shades of red and green. (Wild prefers their blue and purple days, personally) finishing up the blue pile, he points at it just as the final one joins its brothers. 

“Blue’s always been my favorite—it’s really vibrant and I’m pretty sure I see it the same way everyone else does. I wear it a lot.” He goes on like this, chatting about anything that comes to mind just to fill in the space. It’s part of the appeal of the videos, he thinks—most people wouldn’t want to sit there and watch him moving candy around in silence for 5 minutes straight.

One by one he slides the colorful pieces across the counter, letting out a long ‘bwooooop’ noise as each piece gets transported. He doesn’t really notice himself making it, too engrossed in the task at hand. Before long, Wild is left with three colorful collections to the left and a nearly identical pile in front. 

This was where it got hard. _Logically_ he knew that the candies in front of him weren’t all the same color. There were too many in the pile, and the chance of them all being red or all being green was little to none. His eyes, however, told him a different story. The pile just looked like a murky brown, reds and greens blending together into one uniform hue. Even his regular strategy of picking out the lighter colors would be difficult—it was almost impossible to differentiate them by the lightness of the tone alone. 

Should he wing it? Should he scrutinize each individual candy under the bright light of the kitchen island? He mumbles quietly to himself as he tries to pick a strategy, peering down at the candies as if he could simply will the colors into his vision with a hard-enough stare. 

“Ok,” he starts up again, hand hovering over the m&ms. “I think this one is red…” He usually assumes that the darker ones are red, but half the time he ends up guessing anyways.

So absorbed into his intense leer, he doesn’t even notice the shadow falling over the table until it clears its throat. Wild brings his phone up as he lifts his head, peering through the screen at the deadpan face of their oldest housemate. It looks like Time had just gotten out of the shower, his wet bangs falling in front of his eyes. The obstruction still does nothing to soften the unimpressed look on his face. 

“Oh, hey!” Wild grins, unaffected by Time’s expression. He does, however, heed the warning that comes in the form of a pointed look at the still-filming phone. He taps the screen to stop the recording and sets it down to the side. He’s going to start filming back up right away, so he keeps the phone nearby. 

“What’s going on here?” Time asks, his confused tone only seconds away from an exasperated sigh. He finds that that’s pretty normal with this group, but Wild in particular always seems to try his patience. 

“Well…” Wild replies, “I’m making a tiktok.” 

“A tiktok.” Time says the word as if it has personally offended him.

“Yup.” 

“And in this tiktok, you’re…” he leaves the sentence open for Wild to finish, gesturing to the candy strewn all over the island. 

Wild fights the urge to be stubborn and play dumb, if only to prevent Time’s blood pressure from rising any more than it already does every time he has to deal with them. (Which, considering how they live in the same building, is probably a lot more than he would prefer). Having a little mercy, Wild launches into an explanation. 

“Right, so the other day Legend bet me 10 rupees that I couldn’t sort a bag of m&ms and I was like ‘of course I can!’ and then I decided to film it, because why not? So I grabbed my phone and I did it and I posted it on tiktok (I wasn’t successful by the way I lost those rupees do you think I could borrow from you? I’m kind of broke) but it got really popular on tiktok and people kept asking for more so here I am.” He’s a little out of breath after the explanation, so he takes a minute to catch it as Time pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

“Right.” 

Time takes a minute to compose himself, and Wild watches with a grin on his face. 

The minute continues. 

It takes a little longer than a minute. 

Four slinks by silently while Wild waits, snatching a couple of blue m&ms from the pile. They’re wearing what Wild assumes is Violet, the jacket darker than their Blue days. They survey the table with a quick glance then smirk, taking a couple of the redgreenbrownWildhasnoclue m&ms and swapping them around before sneaking away. 

_Damn it_. He had been sure those two were the same color, but hopefully he’s made fewer mistakes this time than last time. He really can’t afford to keep losing these bets with Legend. Time seems to have composed himself, and Wild can bet that he doesn’t want anything to do with this. He gets his confirmation in the form of an exasperated “Just clean up when you’re done, _please_.” as Time turns away from the scene of the crime. 

Oh well, Wild thinks to himself, guess that gives him a chance to finish his filming. He’ll make sure that Time isn’t at home next week when he tries to sort a pack of cherry and melon nerds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is a responsible adult(™) and their housemate/makeshift landlord (his name is the only one on the lease). Four’s a DID system and accessorizes/changes their clothing color based on who’s fronting ([kinda like this!](https://minas-linkverse.tumblr.com/post/630517567035965440/cozy-art-something-like-this-probably-also-i)) And yes I was serious abt the colorblind Wild h/c but my gremlin brain was set on you-know-what-posting instead. Inspired by [these](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z9AOBOSF4o) [tiktoks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06-1HECUFt8)


	9. Phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twilight has almost a second sense when it comes to Wild's rough nights, always dropping what he's doing to comfort his protege. Wild thinks it's about time he repaid the favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!
> 
> Characters: Wild, Twilight  
> Word count: 1575
> 
> There's some twilight princess manga spoilers in this one, so skip if that's something you want to avoid!  
> 

This isn't the first time Wild has lost sleep because of his dreams. He’s used to waking up shivering, memories slipping through his fingers like sand on the shores of Lurelin Village, leaving him feeling fuzzy and confused for the rest of the day. If he’s lucky, the memories fade quickly and he’s able to fall back into a restless sleep, reclaiming a bit of the night so he can function normally the next day. Unfortunately, Wild isn’t a very lucky person, so he’s gotten used to long nights spent battling with his own thoughts.

This time, however, the contents of his dreams isn’t the only thing that disturbs his sleep. A storm rages on outside, the small inn they had taken up a couple of rooms in for the night shaking as rain pounds on the window. Every sound and vibration feels like it's drilling right into his skull, the flashes of lightning turning into a Guardian’s laser beam and threatening to overtake his senses. The once-cozy embrace of the blankets now feels burning hot, flames licking up his body. They concentrate on the left side of his face and Wild has to hold himself back from clawing at his scars. 

A boom of thunder shakes the entire room and he clasps his hands over his ears as the pressure in his head spikes. He whimpers at the pain, taking a minute to try and regulate his breathing. His left eardrum feels like it’s about to _explode_. Storms have had this kind of effect on him since he first woke up in the shrine but dealing with it never gets any easier. 

(He asked Purah about it once, on a humid day in Hateno when the pressure of an oncoming storm caused him enough pain to render him almost deaf in his left ear. There were a few remaining Hylian soldiers after the calamity, she explained after he communicated his pain to her through shaky sign, but they weren’t exactly left unscathed. One of them, an amputee who had lost her leg to a Guardian’s robotic claw, would get aches and pains for days before rain hit, feeling as though the limb was being crushed all over again despite it not even being _there_ anymore. She called them phantom pains, and Wild found the term fitting. They were, after all, sensations from a ghost—the person he is now feeling the pain from who he once was.)

It is, however, still the middle of the night, and the others slept on close by. Wild tries to suppress the noises he makes, moving his right hand to cover his mouth, and a few tears escape from his tightly shut eyes. Vaguely, he wonders where Twilight is. It’s a little selfish of him, but he had come to count on his mentor’s presence after a nightmare, the other seeming to have a second sense when it comes to Wild’s night terrors. He usually appears by him, silently helping him ride out the worst parts. Even if Wild doesn’t always remember what triggered them in the first place, having a steady presence by his side helps him wind down. 

The pressure and ringing in his ears subside for a moment, long enough for him to lower his hands and take a deep breath. A lull in the rain makes it so he can finally hear more that the pounding on the window, and he slowly becomes aware of the noises coming from beside him. 

Twilight lays next to him, sleeping restlessly. Now that the storm has lessened in its intensity, Wild thinks back to the previous day. The inn only had five beds, which meant that most of them had doubled up. Twilight had been next to him the whole time—but something doesn’t seem right. Leaning forward slowly and trying not to wince at the rough feeling of the sheets against his too-sensitive skin, Wild gets a little closer so he can see the other hero in the dark. He’s curled up on his right side, facing Wild, and he has his left arm clutched tightly to his chest. Every flash of lightning throws him into relief, showcasing the pinched look on his face and the way he shivers. 

What was going on? Was he sick? Had he gotten hurt without them noticing? It wasn’t very characteristic of Twilight to hide an injury—that was something Wild himself was more likely to be guilty of, but he couldn’t think of any other reason for his mentor’s discomfort. The other boy clutches his sword arm as if it’s a lifeline, right below his shoulder, and he and Wild wince together at a particularly loud clap of thunder. 

_Oh._ It seemed like the two of them had more in common than Wild thought. Wild remembers Twilight talking about this wound, something that happened to him early on in his adventure. An angry monster and far too much confidence almost resulting in his death. If it hadn’t been for the guardian spirit of Twilight’s home village, the ranch hand would not be there with them today. Sure, Twilight was whole now, but if Wild still felt the effects of his own death after a hundred years of healing, who was he to say that Twilight shouldn’t still be feeling his? 

He leans over Twilight’s curled form, close enough to see the tears that are beading on his lashes and threatening to fall. 

“Twi?” He asks softly, his voice quieter than his footfalls in full Sheikah armor. He doesn’t dare make any noise that’s louder, afraid to overwhelm him. Brushing Twilight’s bangs back from his face, he watches the ranch hand’s eyes flutter open with difficulty. 

“Cub?” Twilight asks, the nickname coming out strained. 

“Yeah, it’s me, Twi.” Wild tries to reassure him, looking worriedly over his form. Twilight’s grip on his arm looks tight enough to bruise, and he’s shivering. His blanket has long been abandoned at the foot of the bed, and Wild makes a quick note to himself to grab it. 

“It hurts…” Twilight chokes out through clenched teeth, and Wild’s heart constricts. He can’t watch his mentor, normally level-headed and strong, be in so much pain. And he _gets it_. Even now Wild is trying to hold back his own pain, the burning feeling of his skin and the pressure in his left ear crashing over him in waves. 

“I know,” he replies, sorrow filling his voice as he makes up his mind. 

Twilight is usually the one who comforts them, taking advantage of his wolf form’s soft, thick fur and comforting presence to envelop them in a warm cocoon of love and care. The (barely) hidden identity helps them drop their guard, and even those who know that it’s him can ignore that fact long enough for him to flop over their legs for a quick nap or snuggle. The role of weighted blanket is often taken up by Twilight himself, however even the biggest hearted of caretakers have days where they need to be held. 

Wild settles back down on the bed, uncurling and trying to make himself comfortable. His muscles are still tense, but he lays down on his side and shuffles closer to Twilight so he can curl up against him. He pulls both his and Twilight’s blankets over the two of them, then leans forward until their foreheads meet. Wild hopes that the extra warmth will help soothe some of his mentor’s aches away. It never works perfectly for him, but it certainly helps. 

Twilight is still shivering, and Wild brings his left arm up to his shoulder before gently resting his hand over the other hero’s, coaxing it out of its vice grip. Their clasped hands come to rest in the space between their bodies, and Wild cards his free hand through Twi’s hair. There’s a song waiting on the tip of his tongue, a soft melody Kass once taught him on a late night at Rito Village, and Wild hums it softly as they huddle together. The song was something he sang to himself on nights like these throughout his journey when he found himself getting overwhelmed. He’s glad he isn’t alone anymore. When they had all first met, Wild considered travelling in a group to be a nuisance, constantly having to look out for people other than himself and not being able to run off freely to explore. But when he was alone, these tough nights lasted forever—and he would trade the freedom of solo travel for a night like this where he can help his brothers out in a heartbeat. Wild doesn’t want any of them to have to go through what he did all alone. He watches as Twilight slowly relaxes, the tension easing from his muscles and the tremors starting to fade. 

Wild can only hope that his presence can help comfort Twilight just like the ranch hand has done for him so many times before. He’s no wolf, he can’t just rest on someone’s legs and call it a day, but he thinks his methods are just as effective. The cozy embrace and comforting weight of his brother against him helps soothe his own phantom pains. The weight is grounding, giving him a solid point to focus on instead of the cacophony of sensations that batter his mind and threaten to pull him under, and Wild finds himself falling into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3
> 
> next prompt: (probably) 21-ancient.


	10. Ancient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legend does some laundry and suffers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 1063  
> Characters: Legend, Time, Four, Wild, Sky

Something feels strange when Legend wakes up that morning, but he can’t quite place his finger on it. 

It starts off like any other. Other than Four, who was on final watch, Legend is the first to wake up. Mornings are his favorite time of day, when the sun is fresh in the sky and the chill of the night has yet to fade. The soft birdsong, the crisp briskness of the air, and most importantly, the _peace and quiet_ all come together to form the best case for him to wake up with the sun. It’s not like he doesn’t contribute to the chatter himself—Legend isn’t exactly silent when with the others, participating in his fair share of story-telling circles and rowdy arguments, but sometimes he just needed a reprieve from the noise. 

The adventurer takes his time packing away his bedroll before pulling some of last week’s clothing out from his bag. There’s a river not too far off from camp, and Legend wants to take advantage of the fresh running water to get some clothes cleaned. He probably wouldn’t have time to let them air dry before they set off once more, but Wild wasn’t the only hero who knew how to get other uses out of his magical weapons, and a fire rod would work just as well. 

When he makes it to the riverbank, Legend is surprised to spot Time settled against a tree, staring off into the water with a thoughtful look on his face. He doesn’t even notice Legend approaching until the younger crouches down right by him, pulling a bar of soap from his pocket and grabbing an undershirt from the pile of clothing. 

“Goode mornyng, yonge Legend,” Time greets him.

At least, Legend thinks it’s a greeting. He looks at Time strangely, but the elder has already turned his gaze back to the water, his attention consumed by a thousand-yard stare. Legend responds with a half-hearted “good morning” before turning back to the fabric in his hands. Time has a weird sense of humor, his brand of pranks falling into the “confuse the others with strange behavior” category. It’s way too early for Legend to even consider dealing with this, so he lets the odd greeting slide as he busies himself with his chores.

Legend finishes cleaning the clothes, wringing out the final pair of shorts and pulling them off the tree branches he had left the rest on in between batches. Time has pulled a notebook out of his pocket and is focused intently on whatever is on the pages. Legend’s a little curious, wants to ask what’s got the old man looking so intensely at the contents of the book, and maybe see if Time was going to continue his lame attempt at a prank, but water dripping onto his bare legs calls his attention back to the task at hand. Whatever. He has other things to worry about, like how he’s going to string up this sopping wet pile of clothes so he can dry them off—maybe if he asked nicely, Twilight would let him borrow one of his clawshots.

“Hey, Vet!” Four calls from over by the fire as Legend walks back to camp, the smithy’s arms piled high with apples. Wild sits beside him, pulling fruit after fruit from his slate and adding them to the mound. “I’ve been recruited to help with breakfast. Can you—Wild, cut it out!” he interrupts himself as the cook adds another apple and the tower wobbles precariously. Wild holds up his hands as if to stop them from tumbling to the ground, but it restabilizes before anything has the chance to fall. 

“Can you wake Sky up?” Four tries again. “I swear he’s sleeping heavier than a bokoblin, I don't know how we haven’t woken him up already.” Legend shoots him a thumbs up before trying to locate Sky. The hero was normally their heaviest sleeper, and he had also taken second watch, something that didn’t help. Legend locates him on the far side of camp, tucked up with his back against a tree. Crouching down, he goes to shake Sky’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him from his sleep.

“Fimm meiri minutes, Sun,” Sky mumbles, turning his face so it’s hidden in his sailcloth.

 _What_ was going on with everyone today? Either Sky was hiding a head injury, or he was stuck even deeper in sleep than Legend originally thought, if he was slurring his words like that. 

At this rate, he was never going to finish his laundry. Forgoing asking Twilight, Legend balances the damp pile of clothes on one knee and crouches down to search in his pack once more. He knows that he had a hookshot at one point in his past adventures, he just needed to rummage around enough for it to surface. The smell of cinnamon wafts over from where Four and Wild are working on breakfast as he searches, the delectable scent rousing the stragglers out of the throes of sleep with the promise of a sweet reward. Legend hears Sky shuffle around as he rouses, sitting up and stretching to shake the sleepiness out of his limbs.

Just a tiny bit more… _there!_ Legend grabs on to one of the claws of his hookshot, tugging it free from the opening of his bag with a little cry of victory.

“Góð morning, hverr maðr! isn't þat slíkr beautifulr dagr?” Sky calls out cheerfully to the group that has gathered around in a sleepy group by the fire. The voice makes Legend whip his head over, fumbling with the hookshot. The others all stop what they’re doing, Wild dropping his wooden spoon with a clatter in the confusion.

 _Huh???_ Legend’s brain freezes for a moment, staring at Sky in confusion before he realizes what’s going on. It all adds up—Time’s strange speech, Sky’s unintelligible chatter, the way Four was seemingly unaffected—he smacks his own face in exasperation, ignoring the confused chatter from the others as he drops his freshly cleaned clothing into the dirt in order to dig into his pack for the proper tome. 

He _really_ needed to figure out how to make his universal translation spell last longer, or at least start keeping track of when it was about to wear off. This was the third time this _month_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, pls hear me out. While it's so much easier to let the Links be able to communicate normally, my linguist brain won’t stop bugging me... They _shouldn’t_ all understand each other. If there's enough time between each of the boys for stories to get lost to the ages and landscapes to completely rearrange, then the Hylian language definitely changes in that time too. Language changes so quickly that it would be impossible for them to all speak the same way (writing changes slower but there's also no way they can read each other’s hylian scripts without a little bit of magic). 
> 
> (Leg and Wild could understand Four just fine because of the Jabber Nut)
> 
> Bonus: Wild drops “yeet” into a conversation one day and they all just. Bluescreen. KSJDH
> 
> Next prompt: (probably) 24-musical instrument.


	11. Musical Instrument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twilight is a farmboy, after all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twilight doesn't need a musical instrument, he's got his own pipes
> 
> Word count: 1016  
> Characters: Legend, Twilight, Malon, Time, Four, Warriors

At this point, Legend was convinced that Time saw every time they landed in his Hyrule as an opportunity for free labor. Wiping the sweat from his brow with a swipe of his sleeve, he wonders where the others are. He had been baling hay for what felt like hours now, but he hasn’t seen one of the others in a while—the last person he had seen was Sky when he passed by on his way to the cucco coops. To be perfectly honest, the other hero was strangely comfortable around the little beasts and Legend wouldn’t be surprised if he had fallen asleep among them. Shrugging, Legend turns back to the hay. Did he need to cut some more? Or did he have enough for a few more bales?

He falls back into the rhythmic motions of his chore, packing the hay into an open crate and wrapping it with twine once it was full to bursting. So invested in his task, he doesn’t notice the buildup to the noise before it hits him. 

And _oh_ , does it hit him. Legend isn’t sure what it is—a crying child? A siren warning everyone of incoming monsters? Had somebody stepped on Lon Lon ranch’s resident barn cat’s tail? Whatever it was, he needed to get to the bottom of it. It sounds like a voice, but the pitch keeps changing so rapidly that Legend can’t identify who it is. What he finds when he walks to the source of the sound isn’t as bad as he expected. No one is hurt, at least—as a matter of fact, they seem to be enjoying themselves quite a bit.

Twilight stands off to the side of the ranch's iconic racetrack, leaning against the wooden fence. Malon, Time, Four, and Warriors all gather around him, looking over at the farm boy with a strange mix of differing expressions. Legend walks closer just as Twilight stops whatever unholy noises he was making, schooling his face into the driest look he could manage. While not as impressive as Time’s classic look of disappointment, Legend found that his version was pretty effective at getting the others to explain what they were doing. He turns his gaze on to Twilight, the other's red face indicating that he would be the weakest link.

Twilight is flustered, face turning redder by the minute, and Legend can’t tell which one of the members of his slowly growing audience is causing the reaction. He seems torn between getting offended by the teasing looks on Warriors and Four’s faces and embarrassed by the fond ones from Malon and Time, and Legend just _knows_ that he’ll crack any second now.

“I was just uh, yodeling,” Twilight explains, the pink in his cheeks fading a little bit as he focuses on finding his words. “It’s kinda a style of singing? We do it all the time back in Ordon, I think it used to be a way to call the goats, but nowadays it’s mostly for show.” He mumbles something else, but Legend doesn’t catch it.

“What was that?” He prompts, refusing to let it go.

“I said that…” Twilight’s voice trails off once again, the flush returning with a vengeance. 

“Come on, farm boy.” Legend teases, leaning forward. Out of the corner of his eye he makes out Four and Warriors leaning forward as well, equally as interested in what was so difficult for Twilight to spit out. 

“I said that we even have competitions and I’m the reigning champion!” The last part comes out loud and rushed in Twilight’s haste, and his face lights up once more when Legend’s eyebrows rise up in surprise. 

Legend tries his best to hold back his laughter, but a giant grin spreads across his face anyways. This is _rich_. Their own little rancher, a musician? Who would’ve thought? 

“I think it’s impressive!” Four calls over from where he’s settled on a bale of hay. His feet don’t quite reach the ground so he swings his legs back and forth, his mouth twisting as he tries to hold back the laugh Legend can see in his eyes. Warriors, who’s got his hip leaned up against the same bale Four is perched on, loses that battle, bursting out into guffaws at Twilight’s admission. 

“Well, I think it’s just fantastic!” Malon breaks in to gush, her hands clasped together by the side of her face. Legend didn’t think that it was physically possible for someone to have stars in their eyes, but Malon was trying very hard to prove him wrong. 

“Such a strong connection to his roots, and talented to boot! Why, if Link had a set of lungs like those, He wouldn’t’ve even needed a cucco to fetch my father way back when.” She nudges Time with her elbow as she says this, a teasing smile on her lips when she notices that her husband is trying to hold back his own laughter. 

“I don’t think that a little boy breaking out into song while trying to hide from the castle guards would have gone over very well, love.” Time defends himself with a wry smile. Ever the voice of reason. 

They both turn back to Twilight at that, Malon beaming as they watch him explain the intricacies of his yodeling technique to an oddly interested Four.

The old man really took them for fools if he didn’t expect them to notice the way he and Malon looked at Twilight. There was some sort of connection between the three of them, and Legend just wished they weren’t so secretive about it—or they could at least try harder to hide it. It was more than a little irritating, but as he watches the two turn to Twilight, sees the way he preens under their soft, proud looks, Legend thinks he can brush it under the rug this time. It’s a good look on the ranch hand, and Hylia knows the nine of them don’t get enough praise.

After a bit more teasing, of course. Legend had a reputation to keep, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I threw myself into a discord vc with recordings of yodeling in order to research this and I snapped after 4 minutes. Never again. I know more about yodeling than I ever wanted to. do. not. recommend.
> 
> (maybe I should stop making Legend suffer SKDJFHS)


	12. Ruins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Wild  
> Word count: 515
> 
> ngl I'm super proud of this one and I wrote it ages ago so I'm glad to finally be able to post it!

Wild is used to the feeling of something being missing.

He felt it when he first woke up in the shrine of resurrection, when the empty spaces in his mind outnumbered the memories a million to one. He felt it when he stared at the statue of Mipha in Zora’s domain and couldn’t summon more than a film reel of detached experiences that could have belonged to anyone other than him. He felt it when he walked through the desolate, monster-infested halls of Hyrule castle on his way to face Calamity Ganon, passing by rooms that he knew somewhere in his mind were places he frequented, yet couldn’t summon even a spark of familiarity. 

Something in his mind itches every time he sees Warriors and Wind huddled by the fire; the sailor wrapped in the captain’s scarf like a blanket. It makes his heart ache when Warriors laughs at one of Wind’s jokes, his body shaking with mirth. It takes all his strength to turn away from the sight, to get the bitter taste out of his mouth. 

Wild dreams that night, a jumbled mess of familiar flashes and sounds that leave him even faster than they came. 

_Her birthday was right after the princess’, and oh, did that make her unbelievably happy when she first discovered it. He picked up all the ingredients he needed to make her favorite cake when he was in Castle Town, and he was looking forward to going home for the weekend and preparing a feast for them all._

He awakes with the taste of monster cake on his tongue. The sweetness is cloying.

It continues like that for a while, the little interactions between his companions triggering _something_ in him. Every pat on the back he gets from Twilight, every playful nudge Four gives Sky, every proud look that Time levels at them after a successful spar; they all make his heart ache with an unbearable feeling of loss.

Hyrule falls ill one night, the fever leaving him too weak to travel. They’re settling down in a local inn when Wild walks by Hyrule’s room. Legend sits at his bedside, humming softly as he smooths a sleeping Hyrule’s hair away from his eyes. The moment is so tender, so _pain-inducingly familiar_ that it makes Wild freeze in place. 

You’re always getting sick _, he chides her, but his touch is gentle as he lays a cool cloth over her forehead and reaches for the bowl of soup by the bedside. She sticks her tongue out at him before sighing at the welcome change in temperature, and Link chuckles softly._

When was the last time he took care of someone when they were sick? One year ago, one hundred years ago—does it even matter at this point, Wild thinks angrily to himself, when he was never going to get to take care of her ever again?

He doesn’t even know who _she_ is _._

He’s used to missing pieces, Wild reminds himself. 

Then why did this missing piece in particular make him feel like his mind was crumbling into ruins?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can pry concept-art wild’s little sister out of my cold, dead hands. This one was inspired by a [very painful piece of art over on Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFJ3lXypXcA/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)


	13. Corrupt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Four  
> Word count: 1828
> 
> warnings: minor character death

Four opens his eyes, and his world is enveloped in _orange_. Flames rise as far as he can see as the forest around him is engulfed in a blazing whirlwind, the smoke invading his lungs and holding them in a vice grip. He blinks when his eyes begin to sting from the smoke, embers floating along in the wind. They dot the ground as well, twinkling stars filling a fallen sky.

Where is he? He is no stranger to forests, and since meeting the other heroes and travelling to their Hyrules the number of possible locations only increased exponentially. There are no hints in his surroundings, the flames stripping the trees of their foliage and turning any distinctive plants to ash in the warpath. Four can’t make out any landmarks either—everywhere he looks he can only make out red skies and heavy, ashy clouds.

And yet, something feels _familiar._ The urgent thought propels him forward through the burning trees, searching for anything that could help him place himself. A plant, an animal, hell, even a _monster_ would be welcome at this point. At least a familiar monster would tell him if he was in his own Hyrule so he wasn’t wandering around with no direction. His thoughts only multiply the longer he runs, _where is he why is he alone what is going on **where are the others—**_

A tree breaks behind him with a mighty crack, crashing to the ground and making the earth shake. The sound reverberates through his entire being, and he almost trips over a tree stump when he ducks away from the wave of smoke it brings down in its wake.

The _tree stump_. Four skids to the stop just before he passes it, doing a double take when he notices the starburst of cracks carved in the very center. 

The realization hits him like a charging helmasaur. The familiar marks of a Minish portal could only mean this was his Hyrule, and the only forest it could be was the Minish Woods. He needs to find the village, fire be damned—the Minish would be defenseless if it had already reached them. He still can’t place where he is in the forest, so he peers into the distance along the path. Focusing, he tries to listen for any noises past the crackling of the flames. _There_. It’s hard to hear, tiny as it is, but his heart sinks when he makes out faint screams. 

Bile rises into his throat. How long had the forest been burning? How long had the Minish, _his_ Minish _,_ been suffering without him there to help? He runs in the direction that the noises came from, slowing down as the village comes into view.

Four scrambles over the fallen log that serves as an entrance to the Minish village, freezing in place. The village is in ruins, half of it collapsed into ashes and the other trampled into the ground. Tiny figures are strewn about, and Four has to hold back bile once again at the sight. He forces himself to look away from the lifeless bodies and ruins, his breath quickening as he begins to panic. Only one monster could have done this particular mix of damage, but Four has never seen Lynels in his world—let alone ones that breath fire like those in Wild’s Hyrule.

He’s the only one here. He can’t find any of the others, but with the forest coming down around him and the screams of his tiny friends echoing in his ears, Four realizes that he doesn’t want them to be here. This scene is something directly out of his deepest nightmares, down to the chilling feeling of _uselessness_ that threatens to tear his heart in two. The heat licks up his skin, settling in his bones as fear threatens to suffocate him even faster than the thick smoke. 

With shaking hands, Four reaches into his bag. Grabbing the first item that his fingers touch, a wave of relief washes over him when he makes out the cool blue of an ice rod. Something nags at the back of his mind, Blue and Vio both insisting they _don’t have an ice rod_. Why would they? With Blue’s aversion to the cold giving them all a strong distaste for the element, they would never get any use out of it anyways. He tried to brush the suspicion away—he has one now, and he isn’t about to question his luck in a situation like this. He must have borrowed it from Legend during a fight at some point and forgotten to return it.

Part of him still rebels against using an icy weapon in the first place, against the idea that he would ever willingly use one, but he pushes it aside. He needs to steel himself, needs to quell the chill that’s running through him so he can focus on the task at hand. The fire has already spread wildly out of control, way too far for him to put out with a single ice rod; he’s honestly surprised that he’s been able to get this far into the forest.

Gripping the weapon tighter than he probably needs to, Four feels the magic channel through him as it surges forward to power the elemental burst. The frost that flows from the gem set in the top of the rod is no cooler than the flames roaring around him, but he continues to spread it as far as he can. The screams of the Minish ring in his ears as the survivors scramble to rescue who they can from the wreckage of their homes, and Four feels a surge of motivation. If he doesn’t stop this, who will? 

He waves the rod around, trying to spread the frost to counteract the flames, but they rage on, undeterred. He doesn’t even feel any change in temperature around the rod. Usually the user is quick to feel the effects of these kinds of tools, another reason why he never uses them. Despite the glow, despite the tendrils of frost spreading through the air and creating a web of ice beneath his feet, Four is still sweating. The flames close in on him, threatening to eat him up the same way they devoured the still-crackling trees. 

Why isn’t it working? Frustrated tears well up in his eyes as he frantically turns back to the village—some of the Minish had noticed his presence and had started to cheer his name. He claps his hands over his ears to block the tiny voices out. He wants them to stop—didn’t they see that he couldn’t save them? He wasn’t Link, hero of the Minish, he wasn’t the hero of the Four sword; he was just a scared little boy who was going to meet his own end right by those who were counting on him. 

The voices still reach him, somehow, despite him being still at his normal Hylian height. They pierce through the hands blocking his hearing, crying out his name— _Four, Four! Come back to us—_

Four?

The Minish don’t call him that. They call him Link, Mr. Hero, even Little Hero; but never _Four_. Something was wrong. 

How did he get here? He remembers opening his eyes, remembers running through the woods, but what was he doing before all of that? He doesn’t even know when they made it to his world, doesn’t remember a portal or a switch. The noises around him become muffled, but the voices remain clear as day. They cry out his name, desperate in their pleas.

Four stands back up as the thought crosses his mind, the feeling of _wrongness_ spreading over his entire being, only for the wind to pick up. A powerful gust slams into him, knocking him out of his equilibrium and sending him crashing to the ground. Four’s head collides harshly with stone, and he fights to keep a grip on the ice rod. 

His vision blurs at the impact, and all of sudden it's as if a bucket of water has been dumped over him. It’s dark, and the sudden drop in temperature from the loss of the flames makes Four shiver. He slowly becomes aware of a weight on his chest, and he looks up to see a figure straddling his midsection. In a panic, he lashes out with his left arm, and he catches a flash of red when the figure stops his arm mid-swing. They’re saying something, and Four struggles to make it out over the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart. 

He isn’t in the forest. He’s in a dark room, something that looks like a temple’s boss’ dwelling, the walls around them covered in scorch marks. There are no trees in sight. Was—had it all been an illusion? _How_ , when it had felt so real? Four could still hear the screams of the Minish ringing in his ears, could still smell the heavy smoke from the flames. He takes a minute to calm his racing heart, pulling the ice rod from the grasp of the hero above him and tightening his grip on it until his fingers begin to hurt.

He looks around to see the other heroes circling around him, varying expressions of shock and concern on their faces. Hyrule hovers over him, cupping Four’s cheek gently as he checks for any injuries. They look like they’ve lost a fight with a cloud of fire keese, clutching burned limbs and inspecting the edges of singed tunics. On second thought, most of them aren’t looking at Four himself _—_ now that his vision has cleared, he notices that their attention is directed at something above him. Time and Twilight are standing at the ready—the threat still hasn’t passed.

Four jerks his head upward, wincing when it swims with dizziness. A ghostly figure hovers above him, a lamp clutched in its hand. Four’s heart races at the sight, the adrenaline that had not quite faded returning with a vengeance at the monster’s proximity. On instinct he clutches the ice rod in his left hand, allowing magic to flow through and power the elemental gem. 

“Four, _stop!_ ” someone cries out, and they all flinch back when the rod begins to glow red. His hand heats up and Four drops the rod in shock, not expecting the sudden spike in temperature. It drops to the ground with a clang, and Four watches with wide eyes as the familiar weapon rolls away from him, the glow dying down as the magic fades. 

The flaming glow of _Red’s fire rod_. 

Four watches numbly as his burned and battered companions killed the monster that had just released him, a sinking feeling filling his entire being. 

He can't even bask in the relief that it was fake, that the Minish village was safe. His friends were all hurt, and it was _because of him._

It was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand that's a wrap! Thank you guys so much for sticking with me through this month! I didn’t meet my goal of 15 oneshots this month, but no matter what I’m super proud of myself considering how before this I was used to writing once every year or two. I never imagined that I would write for something like inktober (not to mention write almost 15k words....) thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, and gave kudos ♥️♥️♥️


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